


Like a Box of Chocolates

by Zen_monk



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Battle Couple, Dancing Lessons, Doomed Timeline(s) (Fire Emblem: Awakening), F/F, F/M, First Dates, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, M/M, Slow Dancing, Snacks & Snack Food
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 09:12:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13610193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zen_monk/pseuds/Zen_monk
Summary: Series of one-shots for Chocolate Box challenge 2018! Featuring Lissa and Maribelle trying out dim sum, Lon'qu and Cherche domestic times, dancing shenanigans, life and doubts, and a lot of left feet.





	Like a Box of Chocolates

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snowysatoru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowysatoru/gifts).



**In the Manger**

 

Snow cracked and crunched beneath her boots as Cherche walked across the training grounds in the early morning. Slung across her shoulder was her lucky leather bag, full with wyvern treats, a special something for Minerva, and her breakfast. The array of stars still adorned the dark sky above, its constellations telling different stories due to how differently they are placed in comparison to Valm: the Hunter can barely be seen near the horizon, while the Great Bear was featured prominently overhead. The Maiden and the Serpent both hung heavily above, and nowhere to be seen was the familiar Wyvern. That lay far across the ocean in Valm. 

 

She reached the stables, well lit from the stable hands and squires well into their work with their bedhead halfway tamed on their heads and a piece of cheese in one hand while the feeding sacks are in the other. They gave quick ‘Good morning!’ greetings to her before going back to work; they leave her to her job just as they are left to their own work. The stables are warm, from the warm bodies of the horses and pegasi huddled together within the well-insulated thick walls. They no longer breathe nervously or glance fearfully in the far corner of the stables, which proved to her that in the end Minerva’s charms would win anyone’s hearts… in time. 

 

Only when she reached the far corner did Cherche take off her fur hat and shrugged off her fur cape and thick fur coat. Beneath still a lambskin-lined leather jacket, and she hopped about a bit to pull off her snow boots to switch to work boots she left in a crate outside the gate. Her leather bag, she laid beside her boots. 

 

“Good morning, Minerva!” she said cheerfully. 

 

She smiled broadly at her wyvern, but her charms failed to reach fully as her mount stare her balefully through half-lidded dark eyes. A single snort and a puff of hot breath visible from the weather, probably, steaming from her mouth was an answer. 

 

“Mm? Not your usual cheery morning fire for me? Don’t tell me you’ve been up already- oh, I’m sorry Minerva, I hope you hadn’t been waiting long.” 

 

She found a three-legged stool and pulled it towards her bag before sitting on it. She opened her sack and rummaged through it to triumphantly fish out a whole dried hock of ham. 

 

Cherche turned to Minerva and waved the piece of meat to tempt her with the treat. 

 

“Snack time, Minerva,” she cooed, but her glee was dampened a bit when she saw the usual enthusiasm being dampened. Normally, Minerva would almost wiggle her way frantically to Cherche since she knew she ought not to barrel over her in excitement, especially in the stables. Now, the only indication that she showed interest was her raising her head and her eyes bright and alert. 

 

Cherche pouted in thought. She stood up from her seat and sauntered over to Minerva with ham hock in hand. The wyvern reached forward with her neck to nuzzle at the piece of meat, knowing only by Cherche’s command could she snapped it within her jaws. 

 

Cherche stroked her ride’s neck, feeling the smooth scales run beneath her hands. “I guess you’re feeling all right. That first bit of cold when winter set in two months ago was a real nightmare for the both of us then. Just feeling the winter blues?” 

 

Winter blues was something her mother sometimes said to her during the deep months of snow and cold in Valm. A feeling would come, from time to time, of a deep lethargic pull weighing down on the spirit and making one reluctant to get out of bed or do anything. Cherche, even now when time had passed, would feel that while seated in a comfortable chair by the fire, thinking dim thoughts of a conqueror and the future, or of having to live in unfamiliar places while assuming a new identity, or in other castles where she cannot say where she was from. Winter blues had passed by her sometimes in Ferox, thinking past the warm embrace of Lon’qu’s hand over her own and shy quick smiles passed to her from across the room, and looking deep in the snow drifts and the shadows of tall parapets and frozen stone. It was less lonely and more freeing, the freefalling journeys that she and Minerva shared of going through new heights in the sky that felt clearer and brighter in the cold winds above the clouds. The kind of melancholy of choosing a new home and a new future she hadn’t thought about ever doing before. 

 

Cherche reached to pet around Minerva’s spine and belly, giving a reassuring pat on her side before pausing and pressing down suspiciously near her stomach.

 

“Did you eat already?” 

 

Minerva stopped snuffling at the ham to lift her head up alarmingly. 

 

Cherche stared right into her eyes and found confirmation. She put the ham behind her back. 

 

“Did you eat something you’re not supposed to? Wait, no, the stable hands knew that they absolutely cannot ruin your diet. Hmm, I know the cats are staying out of your way....” 

 

She looked around the stable, looking for telltale signs of fur or horse feathers. She then noticed that the stable was already cleaned and replaced with new hay, and the water already changed. Cherche turned around to look over the stable gate to look into the building. There was nary a guilty sign of some rogue stable boy sneaking bites of food, everyone focused on their work.

 

Almost too focused.

 

Cherche turned around to face Minerva, who was nipping at the ham surreptitiously before stopping at her gaze. She scowled in suspicion and said, “You didn’t break your diet to eat some fatty beef, did you?” 

 

“She did not.” 

 

Cherche turned to the speaker next to her, voice deep and gruff from long periods of silence, to see Lon’qu leaning on his arms over the stable gate. She noticed the his arms and hands were dusty, no doubt from cleaning the stables and other chores, and that there were flecks of seed and hay in his hair and all over his lambskin jacket. 

 

“I know she should take pork and mutton, to wean away the taste of cattle.” Lon’qu straightened his back and opened the gate to join the two. 

 

“Lon’qu, just how have you been awake before me?” asked Cherche. 

 

He took out a piece of chamois from his pocket and walked over to Minerva, and proceeded to clean along her back and spines. “What? I wake up early to care for the animals, from time to time. I just happened to work on Minerva’s stall, seeing that she saw me and all.” 

 

Cherche handed the long-desired ham to Minerva, who placed it on the floor so she could chew on it between her claws. 

 

“Oh really? So she gave you a cheery good morning to you? That’s so great, it seems she’s warming up to you!” 

 

Lon’qu looked up from between the wings. “Was she not before?” 

 

“She is very particular about how she wants to start her morning. She likes her face clean first, then her hay changed, and-” 

 

“-and she likes new water and then her breakfast. A cleaning afterwards. I know the routine from Chrom’s army.” 

 

Cherche smiled warmly. “Indeed. And afterwards, we would have a big rowdy breakfast in the mess tent with Miriel on one side and Gregor on the other. Rain or shine, Risen or peacetime, some things never change even when we travel to new places.” 

 

Lon’qu resumed wiping down Minerva, but she could see the hint of smile with his head bent down. “I could never get a moment’s peace back then.” 

 

A small laugh and reminder of an idea brightened Cherche’s face. She reached down her bag to pull up a large piece of wool. 

“Perhaps, but I miss the clamor and purpose of the Shepherds. Just so many ideas to give them something smart to their attire, but I suppose I have to make do with two.” 

 

“Two?” Lon’qu looked up and saw Cherche placing a wool cap upon Minerva’s head. It was bright red with black patterns upon the brim. 

 

“A nice charming cap for a pretty lady here,” said Cherche. She then strode over to Lon’qu and reached up to place a cap on his head. A moment of being startled stiff and frozen from her proximity, and she quickly stepped back to give him space. She delighted in the tentative way in which he reached up to pull the cap in his hands, feeling the bright blue material with white patterns and lined with fur. 

 

“And a warm, comforting hat for a handsome, considerate man whom Minerva likes,” she said softly. 

 

Lon’qu placed the hat back on his head and moved his head for Cherche to appraise it. 

 

“Only Minerva?” he asked. 

 

In response, Cherche placed her hands on his shoulders and reached up on her toes to press a quick kiss on his lips before he had a chance to freeze up or flinch away. Feroxi winds may be cold and the snow pile on in blankets, but at least there was another warm place to be in.

 

“Whoever Minerva likes, I love more.” 

 

**Breathe Deep, Make a Wish**

 

The party went back to Ylisstol to think and ponder and weigh fates and measure hearts. The nobles clamor and argue in the court while Chrom, Lissa, Basilio, Flavia, and Robin listened and scowled until finally Chrom pounded the table for silence. 

 

“Enough! We have to keep calm and remember that we have to think of the  _ people’s _ safety over our own. We will not let panic reign over the Halidom lest we let them trample over themselves to flee the country. We will not stop them from running, but we have to organize so that they are guaranteed  _ safe passage. _ ” 

 

The debate argued well into the evening. The captain of the guard was dispatched to handle public safety, while the captain of the pegasi knights directed the people to designated evacuation zones. Logistics over the upcoming disaster was heavily pored over by scholars, generals, and accountants, taking up much of Robin’s time over the sheer magnitude of that feeding, supporting, and healing the populace could entail. 

 

People and words blur along with the days and nights, but overhead were oppressive storm clouds and waves of magic rending the air dry with static. 

 

Perhaps on the highest hill, in the tallest tree, one could see the silhouette of a dragon in the distance. 

 

It might be the stress and the absorption of earth-shattering knowledge sinking into the bones and the mind, but sometimes Robin thought that Grima was calling out, reaching out in the shadows and the wind, until the dragon engulfed them inside and out. 

 

Two questions rang true within his mind: give his life to stop Grima, or to entrust their own strength instead. 

 

It was a question that was in some ways repeated when Lucina confronted him, eyes shining with tears while her sword arm held steady. It was something he agreed to let Lucina do, to lay his life down at her dead father’s blade.

 

Her father who had, at some point, been his friend in other timeline. 

 

In the Halidom’s gardens, there were still flecks of dandelions dotting the lawns and the flowers. Dandelions made good tea, and the leaves a refreshing salad. Robin would never begrudge its existence as he knelt down to pluck a full white head from its stem. 

 

He wondered if this would count as one of Sumia’s flower charms: get it all gone in one breath, make a wish, and hope it will come true. 

 

“If you blow it, more will grow.” 

 

Robin knew without turning around that Chrom was approaching the bench he was sitting. The day was almost as dark as night, with the heavy clouds overhead, but in his mind’s eye Chrom shone bright with his white cape and determined expression. 

 

“Growing more weeds is hardly the worst thing to befall this kingdom,” said Robin. 

 

“Right, but think of what will happen next: old Mr. Richardson would give me hell for not thinking about all the work he’ll have to do to get ready for the Summer Rose Festival.” 

 

Robin smiled wryly. “Surely some dandelions won’t deprive some roses from flourishing.” 

 

“You’d think that, but Mr. Richardson would beg to differ. You’ll have to see it again, though. He said this year would be a really good one.” 

 

Robin sighed. “Yeah… I think so, too.” 

“So we’ll just have to see it together, to make him happy. That’s a promise… right?” 

 

Robin didn’t reply immediately, instead staring at the empty dandelion stem. What could he say at Chrom’s insistence? The answered lay in the distance, towards Grima’s profile. 

 

“Yeah, it’ll be great,” he said distantly. “You and Lissa just gotta participate in that pie-eating contest again. And Cordelia would plan a whole flying formation event with the pegasus knights, and Sumia can make flower fortunes for everyone. The farmers would show off their biggest pig to guess its weight- I bet Donny would win, there’s no way he can’t- and maybe a butter tasting contest. Yeah… that’ll be great. The bakers can use that butter for their bread and cakes and cookies, and everyone’s gotta try some.” 

 

“Right…” Chrom said uncertainly.

 

“So we gotta make sure it’ll happen again, no matter what. So, we can’t have any more weeds lying around just smothering out the rose bushes…” 

 

A footstep and a swish of his cape in the wind, and Chrom had his arms wrapped around Robin from behind. Robin could feel his hot breath over his ear and disturbing his hair as Chrom breathed heavily to calm himself down. The dandelion stem hung loosely in his hand, there was just barely any strength or care to do anything with it. 

 

“So you’ll be there, right?” Chrom said harshly. “You can’t just leave me stranded here. I’m just no good at doing these kinds of things. Not without you helping me up since the very beginning.” 

 

Robin wanted to point out that the very beginning began with him, Emmeryn, Lissa, and Frederick with him. Many others and many knights and many enemies were in his beginning. But then, he remembered that Robin’s beginning started with Chrom and his hand holding him up. 

 

So he said nothing, but leaned in to Chrom’s warm body to feel his support one more time. 

 

**Drinking Tea**

 

“Oh darling, are you sure that you want to try out the local tea house here?” Maribelle’s smile was slightly strained, but a good lady must persevere outside her comfort zone to maintain a good front at all times. 

 

Even if those times include a busy tea house with old women pushing carts of steamed buns and custard tarts in the middle of Chon’sin. 

 

The tablecloth showed evidence of past tea stains, and the heavy smell of smoke, oil, and tea hung heavily over the air, which added the oppressive atmosphere that came with the loud talking and near shouting between cart lady and customer. 

 

“It’s not so bad, Maribelle!” chirped Lissa, her countenance radiating like the sun. “I’ve been dying to try ‘yumcha’ after Say’ri talked about it last week, and what with liberating Valm and Chon’sin and all, we gotta try the local flavors of our new friends.” 

 

“Technically, this is a unique cultural practice from a different ethnic group in Chon’sin separate from Say’ri’s own tribe, but yes, that is a compelling point,” said Maribelle, her lips pursed. “But when you invited me for tea, I had an… entirely different image in mind.”

 

“Oh yeah? Like what?” 

 

So straightforward, this Lissa. A thought she thought both with love and with chagrin. Always it would compel Maribelle to bare it all when a good lady learns to keep all her cards behind her hand. 

 

“A tea time, for two. Just you and me, and no other interlopers coming to interrupt us. The finest of black tea that I brewed myself,” she said with pride swelling up within her. “Expertly prepared cucumber sandwiches and beautifully cut fruit- apples for you, peaches for me. We just talk about everything and anything, and when there’s nothing left we just enjoy each other’s company.” 

 

All the while, Lissa listened rapt with large eyes and a gentle smile. When Maribelle finished, she grinned and leaned on her hands. 

 

“But Maribelle, aren’t we doing that already?” 

 

“Beg pardon?” 

 

“Well, no one knows who we are here, so we might as well be alone. Better than alone, because at least it’s crowded enough so no one weird would try anything. There might not be cucumber sandwiches here, but didn’t you see that cart with all the cakes and tarts? We’ve never tried anything like that before! And those meat buns smell so good too!” 

 

Maribelle caught sight of those very meat buns passing by, which the cart lady stopped and cut expertly into quarters with sisters, releasing steam and revealing the bright red meat looking luscious and smelling delicious.

 

She had to admit, it looked a great improvement over the usual cabbage stew and dark bread from the mess tent. 

 

“...Perhaps, trying it out is itself a good experience,” she conceded. 

 

Lissa nodded vigorously. “Right?! And it’s not like we never talk about everything and anything, but… you know, sometimes I worry that we’re just going to run out of things altogether.” 

 

Maribelle opened her mouth in protest, but Lissa pushed through. 

 

“So I thought it’s good to get out and see things. Then we can talk about them, and try all the weird things, and then we go home and we’ll just remember them forever as something that the two of us can share. No one else would know but us.” 

 

Lissa suddenly went quiet and leaned back in her chair. But as usual, whatever Lissa says left Maribelle speechless and with her heart pounding. 

 

“I… I see,” stammered Maribelle. 

 

Lissa tapped her foot against the table leg despondently. “Well, maybe it is too weird here. I mean, I thought it would be neat to go to it…” 

 

Quickly sensing the mood change, Maribelle quickly said, “No, no, darling! I’m fine with being here. If you wanted to try it out so much, then I could give it a whirl, too! Why, being here is a… like a cultural exchange!” 

 

Lissa sat up and had a serious expression on her face. “You know, when I heard of how Say’ri talked about yumcha, like how it’s a place where family and friends can relax and have tea and eat a lot of food without anyone looking twice, I thought this would be a good thing. For the both of us.” 

 

“How do you mean, dear?” 

 

“Well, I thought it would be… a good place to cut loose. Feel free. We both know that I don’t like doing a lot of social etiquette back in Yliss, not in the way that you do, but… don’t you want to cut loose, too? In a place where no one would care that we’re trying something for the first time, and we might mess up a little?” 

 

Maribelle sat in thought. They were in another country, after all. Also, no one actually made assumptions of the two that they are nobility, much less royalty, as they dressed more practically than they would back in Yliss. 

 

Why put on airs? 

 

“...You have a very good point, Lissa,” Maribelle said at last with a smile. “Time to put my lessons back on the shelf and start over anew!” 

Lissa reached out to place her hand on top of Maribelle’s on the table. The gesture seemed to make time slow down to a halt, and the cacophony dulled as imperceptible background noise in comparison to her own heartbeat. 

 

Looking deep into Maribelle’s eyes, Lissa said, “Yeah, who cares what anyone thinks of us. The only thing that I want people to care is that they know exactly what it means when I do this.” 

 

Lissa’s fingers interlocked with Maribelle’s, and held on tightly. 

 

The breath was knocked out of her, and surely her face was as red as the roast duck hanging on hooks near the shop window. Maribelle let in a shaky breath, and it came out as an elated giggle. 

 

“Why you little rascal! You planned this the whole time, masquerading as some kind of slumming experience. Nothing to talk about, indeed. Well, I’m never going to let you off the hook for this!” 

 

Lissa joyfully held Maribelle’s hand in excitement, her cheeks reddening as well. 

 

“Yeah well, the usual way would mean sending a letter to your father for his permission, but can you imagine how long the mail is going to reach the castle? I can’t wait that long for a date! It’s just like when we both learned to swim together-”

 

“-oh, you mean pushing me right into the water? Well, you better not push me right into a cart lady, missie!” 

 

The both of them laughed heartily, and somehow, for Maribelle, it was like a weight lifted from her shoulders. 

 

Lissa held her hands up excitedly, her eyes alight. 

 

“Ooh! Speaking of cart lady- excuse me!” She waved over a passing woman trundling a cart in their direction, and when she came close, Lissa excitedly pointed at a dish. 

 

“I definitely want that one!” 

 

A stamp on a slip of paper, and the dish was placed in front of Lissa. Without waiting to see if Maribelle would pick something, the lady lifted the lid to reveal a meat dish covered in bright orange sauce and with dark beans in the dish…

 

“Woah! I didn’t realize you can eat that!” exclaimed Lissa. 

 

Maribelle gaped at the dish, bemused. “Indeed, chicken feet for a first date is certainly… an unforgettable memory.” 

 

**Backstage**

 

Her hands was tacky from glue and probably beneath her fingernails there were small splinters, but with the last column held in place, it was done. 

 

“There it is!” said Robin triumphantly. She wiped the sweat from her brow and leaned back in her seat. 

 

“Olivia!” she beckoned with her hand. The dancer was practicing nearby, repeating hand gestures and working on her expression with varying levels of passion and emotion, finding the right step to move next. 

 

Olivia glided over to Robin’s table. Robin gestured towards it, a silent “ta-dah!” before them. Olivia grinned and bent slightly at the knees. 

 

“This is… just wonderful,” she breathed. 

 

“Yeah? I gotta admit, I was really proud of the color scheme. I mean, melding Feroxi colors with Yliss national colors are normally like,” Robin whistled. “Whew! It would be a disaster otherwise, but…” 

 

“No, it’s just perfect! The design and the choice of theater style just fits!” 

 

“Thank you, thank you,” Robin gave a mock bow in her seat. “Can’t go wrong with a proscenium stage. It’s just a-” Robin kissed his fingers and held it up in the air. “-classic.” 

 

Olivia nodded enthusiastically. “I agree! There’s just something just like home about having a stage manager shouting at the props master for that missing vase, or the director yelling ‘no, no! It’s stage  _ left _ not right!’ I mean… In my experience at least, it was really scary if they yelled at me, but just hearing it is like… so natural.” 

 

Robin nodded sagely. “Yes, I know what you mean. Well, not exactly because I never acted or danced at all, but yes, I think I know that feeling of being in your natural space.” 

 

She stood up from her seat and looked down at her work, hands on hips. “Yup. This is our stage. In the future.” 

 

“We need bigger wood,” remarked Olivia. 

 

Robin doubled over in laughter. “Oh,  _ yeah _ , that is definitely what I should have done in the first place.” 

 

“I mean, if you’re looking for constructive criticism…” Olivia trailed off before giggling uncontrollably. 

 

“Hey! Hey… this is a rough draft. It’s a work in progress.” 

 

“But you were so proud to say it’s done!” 

 

“Yeah! This is… stage one. The first stage in a huge plan.” 

 

“...Literally stage one?” asked Olivia. 

 

Robin made as though she was shot through the heart. “Oof! Walked right into that one,” she uttered, mock stumbling over in dire injury. 

 

Olivia caught Robin in her arms and held her, both laughing uncontrollably. They held each other closely, sharing mirth and friendship. Eventually Robin was the first to calm down, but found that Olivia didn’t let go. 

 

Almost too close, with noses barely touching, they looked into each other’s eyes. Robin never noticed the small flecks of brown in her grey eyes. Olivia ran her hands down Robin’s arms, electricity shocking through her beneath the sleeves and it was like all of her hair stood up on end. Finally, they were hand in hand, and Olivia asked quietly, “Would you like to dance in our new stage?” 

 

Robin swallowed heavily. They were close enough that there were things she never noticed about Olivia, even though she thought she knew all her dancing that encouraged her to fight more. The way her hands bore a swordsman’s callouses from heavy training. How relaxed she looked with her hair tied in a loose braid when practicing rather than in a high ponytail with many small braids. How Olivia smelled of lilies, no doubt from her own perfume oils made to entice with just the slightest of scents, or how Olivia had little freckles on her neck and shoulders. Or of how, as close as they were in which they held, how soft she felt in Robin’s arms, and she wondered if Olivia felt the same way.

 

“I...I can’t dance, said Robin lamely. 

 

“That’s okay. Everyone always started out with two left feet.” 

 

Olivia assumed the usual man’s position and slowly led Robin through the steps. First guiding her where to move, then practicing repeatedly until they can do it subconsciously. Then, Olivia hummed a tune, and it was like the whole world was their stage. 

**Two Left Feet**

 

“I think I’m cursed,” Henry deadpanned. 

 

Olivia shook her head stubbornly. “Nonsense! I have taught many an awkward dancer, and they can glide across the room like a swan!” 

 

“I prefer a flurry of crows.” 

 

Henry started and hastily bent down as Olivia ruffled his hair in retaliation. “No excuses, mister! You got the steps before, it’s all a matter of getting into the rhythm!” 

 

They practiced for nearly two hours now, and they were at a roadblock for almost a whole hour of it. It was nearing dinner time, and any kind of self-consciousness that Olivia felt in fulfilling her promise to teach Henry to dance in public was gone as frustration and stubbornness took over. 

 

She frowned most disapprovingly when Henry called her a scarier teacher than his mage masters. 

 

“Again, Henry!” she nearly snapped. He stood to attention. “One, two, three, one, two, three, yes, good, one, two, three, and- ow!” 

 

Henry’s rogue feet stepped on the  _ same toe for the third time _ . 

 

“Oop! Sorry,” he said sheepishly. 

 

She sometimes thought he was doing it on purpose, to tease her yet again, but his distress was  _ so sincere _ . 

 

She patted her hand on his lead shoulder reassuringly. “That’s all right, Henry. This was… a bit of an improvement.” 

 

“Really?” he asked excitedly. 

 

Suddenly, he was smiling from ear to ear, and it was definitely a very different smile than before. 

 

She couldn’t help but return it. 

 

“Really, really,” she said. “Now, from the top again.” 

 

Henry groaned. “That’s it. I’m cursing myself to dance better.” 

 

“It’s not something you can just magick yourself into being,” said Olivia.

“Yeah, but… I want to do it right soon! For later!” 

 

“Oh?” she mused, slowing their steps to back to basics. “Got someone in mind to dance with?” 

 

Henry looked her quizzically. “I don’t need to have that someone in mind if they’re already dancing with me.” 

 

A blush crept up, threatening to cover her neck as well. “R-Really? Well, where you planning something with me later?” 

 

It was Henry’s turn to turn slightly pink. “If I say it, it’ll ruin the surprise.” 

 

Olivia leaned forward on his shoulder in reflex, and Henry stopped, shocked. “I-I see,” she squeaked. “Well, then… let’s do it from the top again. To get ready.” 

 

**Between the Shadows**

 

The air was choked with smoke and dread, that tears threatened to blind Cynthia in the air. No doubt her pegasus fared far worse in comparison, for they had been fighting for hours. But stragglers in the sky were more annoying than those on the ground, and if they cannot get them all then it’s just a signal for more to come later. 

 

Finally, further ahead was the limping flight of an undead pegasus rider. No matter how many times she encountered them with her lance, the sight of them always turn her stomach. The dead pegasus was skeletal and had its rotting flesh drop from the sky. The rider was basically a skeletal with dry skin stretched over it, its flesh poked and hanging due to how many carrion birds poked at it. 

 

With a determined kick of her heels into her steed’s sides, and surely horse knew that this would be the last one, they flew right at it. Her lance was heavy in her hand. If she missed, or struck awkwardly, it would no doubt fly out of her hand. 

 

She hadn’t come up with a heroic name yet for charging at a Risen with a dagger. 

 

Then she heard a roar on her right. Her eyes widened and froze. No, too small to be Grima. Nor was it was the wet roar of a Risen wyvern rider. To her right, the one flying was no less grim in countenance but she knew it by the spear held in hand. 

 

Who’d have thought she would be glad to see a living shadow, was her thought, but instinct kicked in, and it was like when they were kids. Serious, lonely Gerome and energetic Cynthia pulling her near to where she and mother were looking at flower fortunes. Hoping, for him, that the mothers and fathers would come home, even though hers had not been home for weeks and it was Sumia’s turn to polish her armor. 

They coordinated just like they were taught, and in some ways, just as Minerva was taught from before. They flew in position, their wings beating almost synchronized in time, synchronized in breath, and between the shadows of the clouds overhead. 

 

They struck the Risen rider at the same time, criss-crossed applesauce, as she would have said. 

 

Weren’t they still children, the way that Cynthia whooped in triumph. It was a small thing, but together they did, children together, having been adults for years together, but in that moment they were Super Sumia and Great Gerome again. 

 

Rain lashed at last, washing away tears, frustration, and fatigue. She would have to take her time cleaning her steed. She turned to look at Gerome.

 

He was already away.

 

She wanted to cry again, because he did it  _ again _ . Why does he always just leave when she wanted to just jump at him and hold him and have them both remember that they’re  _ alive _ for  _ one more day _ . 

 

But he raised his hand up, fist in the air, and it was just like when the two of them played the dynamic duo, and she knew he carried the memories with him always. 

  
  
  
  



End file.
